


Fools Stone

by HalfASlug



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Book: The Stone Rose, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfASlug/pseuds/HalfASlug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times the Doctor made use of the Rose statue and one time she joined in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools Stone

Now that Rose had spent eighteen months living with a swimming pool and sauna three doors down from her bedroom, she wondered how she had lived without it. The TARDIS was definitely starting to spoil her, but it was a price she was willing to pay for the occasionally relaxing afternoon in her own personal mini-spa.

However, as nice as these moments to herself were, life on board the ship just wasn’t the same without the constant commentary from its pilot. Not that she ever told him this, of course. Whenever he found her out and tried to drag her away to see a particularly interesting circuit board or whatever, she shooed him away (usually unsuccessfully), but she did miss his presence.

Today was one of the rare times she had been left alone. While she had told him not to bother her the fact that he hadn’t even attempted left her feeling a little bit insulted.

“Hold on, old girl, I’ll have you back together in a minute,” echoed his voice as she approached the control room. “I just need to-” There was a small bang and the smell of smoke crept down the corridor. “Weeell, it might be more than a minute. Can you hold this for me? Thanks.”

Rose frowned. Hearing him talk to himself wasn’t uncommon. In fact, since he regenerated she honestly wondered if he still nattered on in his sleep. It had been strange at first, but now she found listening to him talk about everything under, above and behind the sun, oddly calming. What she wasn’t used to was him talking to someone other than the TARDIS. Anytime she’d sneaked away from him for snacks or a cup of tea, he had noticed and trailed after her, whining that his brilliance was being paid any attention.

“Now where have I put my screwdriver? Oh, you’ve got it!” he said as she entered the room. The Doctor dropped down on the floor, sonic screwdriver in hand and began pulling out wires at random. “Don’t know why I’ve never had you help before. Brilliant idea, if I don’t say so-”

“Who are you talking to?” Rose asked, staring down at him. He jumped and let go of the wires in surprise.

“Oh, hello, Rose! The radio’s broke. I think the TARDIS got sick of The Jam and refused to play anything other than The Style Council so I’m trying to-”

“Doctor?” Rose interrupted. Now she had walked further into the room she could see who had been holding the Doctor’s tools and listening to his monologue. “Don’t wanna be rude or anything, but what is that doing in here?”

The Doctor looked from Rose to, well, another Rose. On the other side of the Time Rotor was the stone likeness of herself the Doctor had sculpted during an eventful trip to Rome they’d been on a few months ago, a tool bag and an oily cloth hanging from its extended arm. “She’s helping.”

“Helping?”

“Yes,” the Doctor nodded. “Normally you pass me my things and keep me company, but you were busy so I borrowed old Rose here from the British Museum to give me a hand. Not literally, seeing as she doesn’t have a spare,” he added nodding to her missing left hand.

There were many parts of his reply that Rose wanted to question so it was an interesting fight inside her head to see which one emerged first.

“Old?” In hindsight, she probably could have gone with a more pressing option, but she’d watched a 53rd century documentary the other night about the effects of time travel on human skin and she had been feeling paranoid ever since.

“She is older than me,” the Doctor reasoned, his attention back on the mass of wires in front of him.

“But - but,” Rose spluttered, “you can’t just nick stuff from a museum!”

The Doctor shrugged. “I made it. Surely I get to borrow it sometimes.”

He did have a point, Rose supposed. Sort of. She removed the dirty cloth and draped it over the railing and tried to rub off the grease stain that was left. “Okay, but if you’re going to borrow it occasionally, can you at least look after it, yeah?” She eyed the missing hand warily. “Not everything just grows another hand when it feels like it.”

“That was exceptional circumstances. I don’t grow random hands every day. That’d be absurd. Useful, admittedly, but anyway, I look after my appendages, thank you very-” There was a crackle of static followed by the opening chords of In The City. The Doctor let out a whoop that was cut short by a sharp fizzling noise and then silence. He sucked his burnt fingers into his mouth and looked up at Rose’s knowing smirk. “Nob a worb.”

Giggling, Rose watched as the Doctor’s fingers were replaced by his screwdriver and he attacked the wires with more vigor, as if to prove he couldn’t be beaten by something as mundane as an electric shock that’d probably have had her unconscious. She settled on the jump seat and watched him work, hair sticking up all over the place, the knot of his tie halfway around his neck, and wondered why she had spent the previous couple of hours anywhere else.

That was until the Doctor asked for his pliers - the ones with the green handle, not the red - before plucking them from the toolbag swinging off the statue’s arm, thanking it and returning to work. It wasn’t that she felt jealous of a statue, but that was her job and no one liked being usurped, did they? Rose glared at the stupid statue’s face and decided her own smile was prettier, even if it was identical.

“This isn’t going to become a permanent thing, is it?” she asked, trying to work out if the statue had become more smug looking in the past couple of minutes.

“‘aybe,” the Doctor replied through the wire in his mouth.

“Okay, I get that this statue is good at - at holding things,” Rose said, gesturing at the toolbox, “and is nice to look at-” The Doctor rolled his eyes, but she saw the corner of his lips twitch as well. “But what about, y'know, conversation? Surely the real thing is more fun?”

“I guess,” the Doctor shrugged. “She has her advantages though.” He threw the pliers in the direction of the statue. They bounced off it’s face and into the toolbox. “You’d have shouted at me for that.”

“Anyone would shout at you for throwing pliers at their face!”

“Not her.”

“Fine,” huffed Rose. “I’d like to see her run away from stuff and save your arse every other day.”

_“I wish I could stay forever, letting this be my food…”_

The Doctor kicked something underneath the console and the music shut off with a puff of grey smoke. “True, but this one is more likely to do as it’s told, not wander off and won’t ever want to visit its mother.”

“Right,” Rose gritted out. She hopped off the jump seat, seized the statue around the waist and attempted to drag it towards the TARDIS doors. “She - is - going- back - _now!_ ” she all but growled as she heaved. After twenty seconds of effort that left her out of breath, Rose had managed to move the statue about half an inch closer towards the door. She blew her hair off her face as she looked up to see the Doctor staring at her as though she had gone insane. It wasn’t a look easily pulled off from someone with a sonic screwdriver in his mouth, but he somehow managed it.

“You do know we’re orbiting Uranus at the minute, don’t you?”

“Yeah, well, my foot will be orbiting Uranus if you don’t put this thing back where you found it!”

“Now, Rose,” the Doctor scowled, “that was a bit of a bum joke by your standards.”

They glared at each other for all of about half a second before Rose snorted and they broke down into a fit of giggles. Rose threw a clean rag, hitting the Doctor in the face, which only led to him laughing harder and clutching his stomach.

“Just put her back once you’ve finished, okay?” Rose eventually said, patting her stone twin on the shoulder. “Poor thing’s already had a tough time, no need to put her through one of your physics lectures as well.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, which made him pout somewhat adorably. The moment was broken as Paul Weller’s voice blasted out of the speakers.

_“I’ve been to ancient worlds, I’ve scoured the whole universe-”_

“Sounds a bit like you,” Rose snorted as the Doctor frantically scrambled back under the console.

“What? No. No, no, no, nothing like me,” he insisted, shooting the TARDIS speakers a threatening look.

_“No matter where I roam, I will return to my English-”_

The music cut out and the Doctor emerged, a fistful of wires held triumphantly above his head. “HA!”

“Haven’t you just spent three hours fixing that?”

Rose would have felt bad about how fast his expression went from joyous to devastated if he hadn’t then said, “That’s another reason to keep the statue - keeps her opinions to herself, that one.” Instead, she stormed from the room, kicking his discarded pliers at him as she went.

Apparently Time Lords could be added to the list of things that shout when attacked with tools.

* * *

A week later, Rose was making her way to the kitchen for breakfast when the smell of burning reached her. Normally this would be something to be alarmed about, but she was so used to mild catastrophes happening around her at this point that she couldn’t bring herself to be more than slightly intrigued. Besides, it confirmed the Doctor’s location more accurately than any GPS system probably could.

Sure enough, through the black cloud that filled the corridor, the Doctor’s argument with what was likely the toaster could be heard.

“I’m sorry, all right! You worked fine as you were! I won’t try and improve you again! Now can you _please-_ ”

“Doctor?” Rose calmly called from a safe distance. “Any chance of me getting into the kitchen today?”

“ _Galley_ , Rose. This is a ship so it’s a galley.”

“Yeah, it’s also a phone box without a working phone.” She stroked the wall of the TARDIS in apology as the Doctor came coughing into the corridor, wafting the smoke out of his face with a box of Coco Shreddies. “Doesn’t the TARDIS have ventilation to get rid of this?”

“Usually,” the Doctor nodded, “but I think she’s blaming me for this and is refusing to help.”

“Fair enough.”

“You’re meant to be on my side!”

“I’m on the side of whoever gets me a bacon sarnie and a cup of tea before I choke.”

No sooner had she spoken, a whirring sound filled the corridor and the smoke cleared almost instantly.

“Oh that’s - that’s just catty,” complained the Doctor, but Rose wasn’t paying attention as she had spotted what was being used to prop open the kitchen door.

“Are you using that Fortuna statue as a _door stop?_ ”

The Doctor looked from Rose to the statue and back again. “Yes?”

“You can’t do that!” Rose protested. “She’s a-a Roman Goddess! A work of art!”

“Why, thank you,” the Doctor grinned, slinging an arm around its shoulders. “I am proud of how she turned out.”

Rose let out a shout of laughter. “You’re so full of yourself!”

“Me?” the Doctor squawked, adjusting his tie. “You’re the one calling yourself a work of art!”

“Oh that’s - why do you still have that thing, anyway?” she asked, trying to find a footing in the discussion. The way things were going she wasn’t getting anything to eat before lunch. “Doesn’t it have to stay in the museum?”

“Yeah, but this is a _time machine_ , Rose,” he answered. He dug around in the cereal box, his hand reappearing full of Shreddies that he then shoved into his mouth. “Ca’ 'ake i’ 'ack 'a'yime.”

With a long suffering sigh, Rose pinched a handful of Shreddies and popped one in her mouth. “Fine. Just be a bit more respectful, yeah?”

“It’s not like I used _you_ as a door stop.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Rose pointed out, poking him in the chest with a smile.

“'Course I wouldn’t.” The Doctor flashed her one of his disarming grins and pulled her into the kitchen by the hand. “How about a full English for my original Rose with all her original parts? Er - minus the toast.”

“As long as you can cook it with me in the same room and I still keep all my original parts, then yeah, all right.”

* * *

Even while somewhere as impressive as the TARDIS, waking up was still a struggle for Rose.

Despite her best efforts to keep it at bay, consciousness gradually won. Instead of being a gracious loser, she did what she did every morning, and buried herself deeper into her pillow. As she did, Rose was pleasantly surprised to discover that her left arm was curled over someone on top of the duvet and tried to hide the sleepy smile she was powerless to stop forming.

Since they had returned from Krop Tor, exhausted yet smiling but with the Beast’s words still ringing in their ears, the Doctor occasionally spent the night in Rose’s room. Nothing ever happened, but Rose still loved falling asleep next to him, talking about nothing until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Today was one of the few times she had woken up to find him still there and she cuddled closer, hoping she could excuse her behaviour on still being asleep.

Still only partially aware of her limbs, Rose frowned as she noted that the Doctor felt… different. His shirt was rougher, colder, against her cheek, while his chest felt strangely tight under the duvet. She gave him a squeeze and noted that she couldn’t feel him breathing. Maybe this was some weird Time Lord thing and every six months he went into a cocoon or something? It wouldn’t exactly be the first time he failed to mention something important about his genetics.

“Doctor,” she grumbled, “you 'kay?”

When there was no immediate reply, Rose slid her hand up his chest in the hopes of poking him in the face - the most thorough medical exam she could think of in her current state - and found something that made her tear her eyes open.

The Doctor had a boob.

In fact, Rose saw as she bolted upright, he had two.

Sense and logic eventually caught up with her, as she dragged her eyes away from the odd lumps under the covers and found her own face.

“Seriously?” she groaned as she flopped back down into bed. Waking up next to a rock hard version of herself… It was the sort of anecdote that was worthy of Jack Harkness.

Now she was slightly more awake than when she first started groping the statue, Rose couldn’t help but notice how stunningly accurate the Doctor had managed to get her breasts. She gave the right one another feel, wondering if it had actually been Michelangelo himself who had sculpted these bits. The Doctor had said he helped with the tricky parts, but surely that didn’t include breasts? Gradually, Rose’s mind caught up with what she was doing and she dragged herself out of bed to find the Doctor.

It was too early in the morning for all of this and she decided to not worry and to just accept whatever compliment she was sure was buried in all of this somewhere.

A few minutes later, Rose was stood outside one of the TARDIS’ many storage units, watching the Doctor bury himself in a pile of broken electronics that she didn’t recognise.

“Morning, Doctor.”

He looked over his shoulder, his face lighting up at the sight of her, and Rose wished she had thought to put a dressing gown on over her pyjamas.

“Rose! You’re awake! Brilliant!”

“Yeah, it’s great,” she said. “What are you up to?”

“Well, I haven’t tidied up in here for a few decades so I thought I might as well sort it out a bit.”

“Right.”

She looked at him expectantly, but he carried on staring at her like she was the first sunrise he had seen in years. It made it difficult to be annoyed with him when he had that silly smile dancing across his face.

“So I’m actually gonna have to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“Doctor,” she began slowly, folding her arms and taking a careful step towards him, “this morning I woke up and found a statue in my bed. Know anything about that?”

Watching the penny drop was almost worth the traumatic morning she had had so far. Almost.

“Oh yeah, that was it,” he said, bounding across to her. “Did you say you wanted to go to the market on Fitstoon or Stifstun today?”

Rose blinked. “Er - Fitstoon’s the one with the little cake things, right? With the blue?”

“Yep.”

“Fitstoon.”

“Excellent! Couldn’t remember which one you said. I’ll go set the coordinates.” And without any further explanation, he shoved the nearest box of electronics onto a random shelf and dragged her towards the exit.

In her head, Rose went over the conversation they had just had, suspecting she had missed something vital because she was still tired. Once the door was shut behind them, she had come to the conclusion that she hadn’t received a proper answer to her perfectly understandable question and pulled on the Doctor’s arm until he stopped.

“Yeah, I still don’t know why the statue was in my bed.”

“I put it there,” the Doctor answered as if she’d asked what her name was.

“Gathered that, thanks. I was wondering why.”

Dropping her hand to rub the back of his neck, the Doctor looked at her with confusion. “When you were asleep I forgot which market you said you wanted to go to, so I left the statue there to remind me to ask.”

Of course. How could she have not understood straight away.

For once, the Doctor correctly read her baffled expression and elaborated. “I thought you’d spot the statue, ask me about it and then I’d remember toask.”

“Well, I spotted the statue.” Rose rubbed her eyes, hoping her brain would stop making that odd buzzing noise and be of some use to her. “Why didn’t you just leave a post-it or something?”

“Last time I did that you ignored it,” the Doctor scoffed.

“It was written in Gallifreyan!”

“So it was obviously a note from me!”

“It was before you had explained that was what Gallifreyan looked like!”

“Oh.” The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed his toe on the grating. “Sorry.”

“How did you even get it into my bed without waking me up?” asked Rose sounding more bemused than angry now. “Why put it in the bed anyway? Why not just leave it in my room?”

“Thought it’d be funny.” The Doctor shrugged.

“Yeah, well, waking up cuddling a statue ain’t exactly a giggle,” she mumbled. The Doctor’s eyes flicked up from the floor to her eyes and away again. His carefully composed expression of contrition twitched. All it took was her raising an eyebrow for the whole thing to fall apart as the Doctor started laughing.

“You were cuddling it?”

“Yep,” Rose sighed, rolling her eyes.

“I knew you were cuddler, Rose,” he chuckled, “but this - this is just-”

“I thought it was you, okay?” she fired at him, instantly sobering him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You thought I’d-”

“Yep.”

“So you were - okay.”

“Hmm.”

The thing with their relationship, Rose mused as she looked at anything that wasn’t the Doctor, was that it was tap dancing on the line between friends and the other thing she refused to name with the greatest of ease as long as neither of them acknowledged that they were essentially a couple who had never really gone further than a couple kisses in very weird circumstances. Him sneaking into her bed for a cuddle was completely fine and caused no awkwardness. Her verbally admitting that he sometimes sneaked into her bed for a cuddle had turned the air around them into a suffocating gas and the space between them into a gaping chasm.

“Shall we - um - go to that market, then?” the Doctor asked with a sniff and a vague wave of his hand.

“Wha- yeah. Yeah, just gimmie chance to get ready and then yeah.”

“Right. So.”

Rose nodded, though she wasn’t sure why. She just wished he’d look at her again. “I’ll just-”

“'Course.”

With a small wave, Rose turned and walked back to her room. After a couple of steps she looked behind her and saw the Doctor was watching her leave, his expression neutral. “Remember to move that statue while I’m in the shower, yeah?”

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Who knows where she’ll end up next?”

Rose shook her head as she rounded the corner. Something told it wasn’t going to be the British Museum.

* * *

After an ordinary shopping trip to the Fitstoon market (well, as ordinary as any shopping trip involving a full scale rebellion, complete with government officials riding what looked like hippos, could be), Rose had gone straight to her now Renaissance art-free bed for a nap. She had promised a hyper Doctor that she’d be back within in an hour and was proud of how much whinging and pouting she had resisted in order to actually leave the control room.

It had nothing to with the look in his eyes that it had only been forty minutes and she was already on her way back to him.

And the way he smiled at her upon her return to the control room had absolutely nothing to do with the giddy feeling in her stomach.

“Thought you were napping?” the Doctor asked as he practically skipped around the console to stand in front of her.

“Nah,” Rose replied, smiling up at him. “Turns out I wasn’t that tired.”

“Sure? Don’t want your little human legs giving up on you.”

She playfully shoved him out of the way and headed towards the jump seat. “Don’t you worry about my-”

Rose’s voice died when she saw something odd over by the TARDIS doors. “Oh no. This - ” she stated, pointing at the new addition to control room. “This is where I draw the line.”

“What?” the Doctor asked, his face a perfect picture of innocence that made him look more guilty than anything.

“You can’t use me as a coat stand,” insisted Rose, marching up to it and removing the Doctor’s coat that he had draped over the statue he had spent three months painstakingly sculpting.

“Wait-”

“You can use the rail, like you normally do,” she told him as sternly as she could while trying not to laugh.

He rushed over to her and tried to put his coat back. “But this brings a bit of culture into the room!”

“No! I’m not being a coat stand!” She fixed him with a glare that she knew neither of them believed.

The Doctor prodded her in the shoulder. “Your mother’s right,” he sniffed, clasping his hands behind his back. “You are getting airs.”

“Doctor-” Rose started in warning, but he cut her off.

“But you look nice in my coat!” His eyes widened as he realised what he had said and reeled himself back in, tugging on his ear in the hopes of looking nonchalant. “Y'know… for a statue.”

Nearly two years travelling together and sometimes it was like it had been two minutes.

“Compliments are getting you nowhere,” Rose said, before muttering, “especially ones like that.” She turned away from, wishing he’d let go a little, just _once_ , just enough to let her know she wasn’t seeing things.

“But, Rose,” he moaned, pulling her back to him and leaving his hand on her arm, “when you go to sleep for _hours_ every night I only have her around and I miss you.”

_Be careful what you wish for, Tyler._

“Really?” she asked. It had meant to come out as lightly flirty but had ended up as a breath.

“A bit,” he admitted, his hand almost tingling against her bare skin.

Though he tried to pass off his comment as casually as possible, something in his ancient eyes, the thing he usually hid from her, was on full display. She gazed up at him, only now realising how close they were standing, and tried to think of something to say but the words weren’t coming and she didn’t want them to anyway. This was them at their most honest; when everything else ceased to exist, time stopped and all the languages in the universe couldn’t convey what they wanted to say to one another.

“Did that get me anywhere?” the Doctor whispered, his lips curling into a small smile that went straight to Rose’s pounding heart.

“Maybe.”

“I’ve resisted the urge to put a funny hat on it.”

“You’re too kind.”

The usual teasing that they exchanged on an almost an hourly basis had gone from silly and funny to murmurs that Rose felt more than she heard. She hadn’t been aware that she had moved at all, but here she was, less than a foot from the Doctor, her fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket and everything to lose if she followed through with the only thing her hormonal human body seemed to be capable of anymore. Her eyes darted down to his lips has she licked her own, cursing both of them for betraying her like this. Couldn’t they remember that there was some reason that she shouldn’t be doing this? Several, very, _very_ important reasons that she should back away - right - now.

A distant voice in the back of her mind reminded her that it was her turn to kiss him, but this time there was no one controlling her body but her and no life saving or celebrating to be done. This would be different. This would just be her, him and the unspoken thing between them that was almost tangible in moments like this one.

She was too far gone. At this stage, pulling away was up to him. There was no way she could stop this kiss from happening.

And then, just like that, he had taken a step back and the world came rushing back in.

Blinking, Rose hugged herself in the hopes of holding herself together as the Doctor tousled his hair and glared at his shoes as though they were somehow responsible.

“Anyway,” he said, blowing air out of his cheeks. “Probably should deal with this.” He nodded jerkily at the statue.

Rose followed his lead and joined in with the nodding, as though agreeing to whatever he was saying would make them forget what just happened. “Yeah, don’t want to rip apart reality or anything.”

“No, that’d be bad.”

“Yep.”

“So.”

Why did all of these wonderful, heart-stopping moments have to end with them backing away from each other and saying the first monosyllabic word they could think of?

The Doctor pushed several buttons with far too much energy before finally smiling at her, confirming that whatever happened between them, never happened and everything was normal. “British Museum, here we go!”

* * *

Wanting to spend some time apart from the Doctor to get her head back on straight, Rose disappeared to the kitchen with the promise of bringing a packet of Hobnobs back with her providing the Fortuna statue had been returned to its rightful gallery at the correct time so no one would notice it had spent the best part of the last month travelling time and space.

When she got back to the control room, the Doctor was still out so Rose sat down and started on the biscuits. As she finished her second one, the TARDIS doors swung open to reveal the statue being pushed along on a hand truck by the Doctor.

“What happened to putting that back?” Rose asked as the Doctor carefully parked the trolley at the top of the ramp. “I wasn’t joking about withholding biscuits.”

“I know,” panted the Doctor. “Blimey, that thing’s heavy.”

“Oi.” Rose swotted his arm and eyed the trolley. “I had wondered how you’d been getting that thing around the TARDIS.”

“That and my very manly muscles.”

“Keep dreaming, skinny.”

The Doctor grabbed the biscuits out of Rose’s hand and stuffed one into his mouth. “Better feed me up if I’m so skinny.”

“Okay,” sighed Rose, “but why do we still have this thing?”

With a mischievous grin, the Doctor lead Rose to the jump seat and sat next to her. He was a bit closer than she would have liked him after what had nearly happened earlier, but at the same time, he wasn’t close enough. Living in each other’s pockets was becoming gradually more difficult and brilliant with every passing day.

Once he was happy that they were both comfortable, the Doctor pulled out a digital camera from somewhere in his pocket and shoved the screen into her face.

It took Rose a moment to register what she was seeing.

“Is that - is that Michelangelo’s David?”

“Oh yes.” The Doctor gave her one of his wide smiles and Rose couldn’t help but match it. “Thought our Fortuna here should spend some time with her half brother.”

Rose studied the photo of the two sculptures and noticed the Doctor had positioned her statue’s broken wrist so it concealed a certain part of the taller one.

“Won’t have your mother saying I’m corrupting even the stone version of you,” the Doctor sniffed when he saw her looking.

Chuckling at the Doctor’s bizarre relationship with her mother and ideas about what would corrupt her, Rose nudged him with her shoulder. “You landed in the wrong museum, didn’t you?”

Her theory was proved correct when the Doctor winced and she burst out laughing.

“Oh come on!” he whined. “You’ve gotta admit, it is a little bit funny.”

“A little bit,” Rose consented, trying to rein her laughter in.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. “You love it.”

“It’s an artistic marble,” she deadpanned.

“Don’t mock me, Rose Tyler.”

“I’m not! These photos could rock the art world.”

“Nah. Her smile’s a little stiff.”

“At least the artist didn’t take a leaf out of Michelangelo’s book and she got to keep her clothes on.” Rose shot the Doctor a flirty smile, tongue sticking out between her teeth, and was relieved to see that, despite what happened earlier, they could still do this.

“Are you done yet?” he sighed, trying and failing to look unamused.

“Yep,” she confirmed, nodding to the camera as he put it away. “Solid bit of photography, that.”

At that, the Doctor groaned and flung himself off the seat. “That’s it,” he announced. “She’s going back. You have punned her out of the TARDIS.”

Rose chuckled as the Doctor spun the monitor around and punched in the proper coordinates. Leaning back in the chair to prepare herself for take off, Rose cast a glance at the statue that looked exactly like her and found she was sad to see it leave the TARDIS. Everything had its role in the universe and good old Fortuna was destined to stand proudly amongst the other sculptures in the British Museum for the foreseeable future, glanced at by some punters, intently studied by others and fawned over by her mum. Last time they had visited the flat, she’d had a photo of the bloody thing on the fridge and Rose wondered if it was still there, between her paint hand prints from nursery and the latest leccy bill.

“Actually, Doctor,” Rose said and he looked up from the controls. A smile slowly spread across her face as he eyed her suspiciously. “Before we take her back, I’ve got an idea.”

* * *

They had been stood behind Rose’s bedroom door for nearly half an hour when Jackie finally returned to the flat.

For most of that time, absolutely nothing had happened but both of them had been so giddy that their silliness had created some kind of feedback loop and, by the time they heard Jackie’s keys land on the table, they could barely contain themselves. Rose just couldn’t believe she had got the Doctor to stay still for so long. However, now the moment they had been waiting for was just seconds away, it was her that couldn’t hold back and the Doctor was forced to cover her mouth with his hand.

His warning look was completely undermined by the rest of him shaking with silent laughter.

The seconds dragged on for eternity. Any… minute…

“Oh my- ROSE!”

At her mother’s screech, the Doctor had to stuff his hand into his mouth.

“Hello, mum!” Rose called through the door, affecting a well spoken voice. “What is for dinner?”

She felt the Doctor poke her in the ribs and she turned to see him giving her a questioning look and pointing at the door. “It’s you,” he mouthed. “What’s with the voice?”

Rose’s reply (that, admittedly, she hadn’t thought of yet) was drowned out by Jackie, who had apparently recovered from her shock.

“Very funny, scaring me half to death with that thing,” she shouted. “Pair of kids, you two. Worse than Mo’s little terrors,” she continued, the volume of her voice fluctuating as she moved through the house putting her shopping away. “Ain’t you got nothing better to do? Especially you, Doctor!”

Rose raised her eyebrows at the Doctor, trying to ignore the pain in her ribs.

Instead of doing the decent thing, like acting his age or looking ashamed, the Doctor cleared his throat. “The Doctor ain’t here,” he said in a high voice. “It’s just me, Rose. Ow!” he added as Rose punched him in the leg. “Just your sound daughter, innit - ow - bling - ow - Rose, stop hitting me!” he hissed, trying to block her attacks through what could only be described as giggles.

Jackie still hadn’t found the funny side. “That’s a priceless bit of art, that is! I’m not having you two break the only statue of my daughter there is!”

The Doctor elbowed Rose and muttered, “Could’ve ended up with grand-statues if you kept hanging around ol’ David.”

“I can hear you, y'know!” Jackie yelled, banging on the bedroom door. Like any respectable Time Lord would, the Doctor squeaked and pulled Rose tighter to him. “Grow up, the pair of you! It’s not like this is the first time I’ve caught you stoned, Rose,” she finished in a falsely sweet voice.

Apparently deciding she had somehow won, they heard Jackie’s footsteps head towards the kitchen as Rose arranged her features into what she hoped was an innocent expression. “What?” she shrugged.

“Rose Tyler!” the Doctor gasped. “I am appalled.”

“Shut it, Mr These-Altridge-Prime-Mushrooms-Have-No-Side-Effects.”

It started as a shoulder barge from one of them and a pinch from another, but, soon enough, a full on play fight had erupted between Rose and the Doctor. It wasn’t long before he had resorted to tickling, while she went for his hair, and the pair of them had tripped over part of Rose’s floordrobe and landed, giggling, on her bed.

Obviously, Jackie chose that precise moment to barge into the room and give them such a death glare that Rose was surprised lazers weren’t coming out of her eyes.

“Right, get your hands off my daughter,” she growled at the Doctor who immediately put his hands in he air, “and that statue back where it belongs or I swear she won’t be the only one with missing limbs!”

Rose bit her lip as the Doctor sprung off the bed and through her bedroom door, staying as far away from her mum as possible. He dodged the statue in the doorway and disappeared from sight. Meanwhile, her mum shook her head in disgust. “Better way of living, my arse.”

Just as Rose had schooled her face into looking at least a little bit guilty, the Doctor popped his head around the door frame and shot her a massive grin as he plonked one of her mum’s massive beach hats on top of the statue.

“I dunno, Mum,” Rose said, coughing herself into seriousness and meeting the Doctor’s eyes. “I wouldn’t live any other way.”

She gave him a wide smile and tried to fill it with all the gratitude, happiness and that 'L’ word she might someday say out loud that she felt towards him and her heart swelled as she saw the same thing reflected back at her.

Well, until her mum smacked him in the arm, anyway.


End file.
